


Through the Looking Glass

by Macx



Series: Years of Transition [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Death, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the future, a retrospect into the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Final Step

**Author's Note:**

> The story deals with peeks into the past and into the future of the Arcs, mostly into the future though This is like Fragments . It follows the trails of individual characters and what became of them or what happened to them in the past. Some of their development was hinted at in stories and the future was already set in a way. Though I've done these stories and scenes now, the character development in the stories I'm still writing remains the same. You just know a bit more now than before and you can have a few guesses as to where this is leading.
> 
> Some of the scenes tend to be long, some are rather short. It lies in the nature of the scene. I'm not artificially prolonging them.

Rhyan Masters looked out over the silent plains in front of him. He was far away from West Central or any kind of civilization here on Cybertron. He had chosen to be alone because tonight he needed to think; he needed to come to a decision. It was either live or die. Live forever or die very soon. He didn't know what to do, what choice to make, but deep inside a small voice whispered that he did know. He had a responsibility to a friend, someone he had known for over 30 years now and someone who depended on him, who needed him. Daemon. His partner had let him wander off and Rhyan knew he understood; as he understood the consequences of Rhyan's decision, whatever it might be.

Dr. Rhyan Masters and Daemon were Interfaced. It wasn't a conventional Interface. Daemon no longer had the necessary compartment to initiate an Interface the normal way, the Sentinel way, and the only reason why both human and robot had become one had been Rhyan's implants. The electronic devices inside his body had linked him to a machine life form and had started to act like a buffer or a catalyst for this machine. Daemon's way of staying sane and balanced was a human being who would soon die.

Rhyan sighed.

If he died of old age, which would be soon in Cybertronian terms, Daemon would lose his balance and go insane. Synchrony would break through again and there would be no stopping him – except killing him before he even finished the Jekyll/Hyde transformation. There were ways out of this. One would be to terminate Daemon's life before he even knew it had happened. Rhyan winced slightly. It would be euthanasia.... murder in a way. It would be just the same the Quintessons had done so many millennia ago. They had talked with Midnight and he had seen the utter disgust at this option in the Sentinel leader's face. He wouldn't do it. The other option would be for Rhyan to continue living. But would it be a life?

Rhyan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Living forever.... living as a robotic life form, still with his implants, still linked to his partner, just not in a body he knew. The solution came by the name of Protogen. Someone else had taken this way once before and Rhyan had talked to Spike, had listened to his words and he had started to think it over. Protogen was far from convenient Cybertronian technology and though they understood most of the technology involved, it was still mysterious in many ways. But Spike had chosen the life as a Protogen, mainly because he had promised never to give up to his dying wife, and Rhyan wondered if this vow was exactly what he had given to Daemon when they had linked. Daemon trusted him; of every single human he had ever met only Rhyan had won his unconditional and complete trust. He buried his face in his hands, torn by his fear of what would be and the desire not to leave Daemon to his fate.

<It is you decision all alone> Daemon whispered through the link and Rhyan's head came up.

<No, not alone. We are Interface partners and what happens to me also happens to you. I cannot leave you to be killed because I died!>

Daemon sighed slightly and there was a sad smile floating through the link. <I lived longer and, I have to confess, happier than I ever thought possible, Rhyan. You made that possible and you sacrificed a lot already. You sacrificed your career, friends, even your home and a family life. I cannot ask you to sacrifice you humanity>

Rhyan shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes. <We are partners, Daemon> he repeated. <Partners means sacrifice. Every Interface partner left a lot behind and always has to>

<But we are not Interfaced>

Yes, that was true. Their link was purely electronic and therefor Rhyan had not stopped aging. He was bodily 58 now, older in Earth years, and one day his body would give up on him. He didn't have the luxury of not aging any more. The revelation had not really shocked him at the time, just surprised the two partners. Neither had really thought about the future, but now the future was here and it demanded a decision.

<There is a way out for me> Daemon said softly. <I talked to Firefall....>

<NO!> Rhyan exclaimed.

<Rhyan, it is the best>

<No! Stop talking like this! It's not the end!>

<Your death is the end for Daemon and the rebirth for Synchrony. I'm sorry. I can't let this menace loose again>

Rhyan reached out and touched his partner's mind. So much had changed in their decades of partnership. Daemon was a calm and very balanced being now; he liked to keep to himself, but he had lost his edges. He could socialize and he didn't need to put on masks any more. The painful flashes were memories of the past and their friendship had consisted of teaching and learning, reaching out and receiving positive emotions. When Rhyan died he would lose all of this.

<I... I have to think about the Protogen life again, Daemon>

<I understand>

Daemon retreated and Rhyan was alone with his worries and fears again. After a while he got up and walked slowly over to the small hopper he had used to come here.

 

* * *

 

Rhyan was in his quarters, the TV was running, but he wasn't watching. He was packing his things. The noise was just background entertainment. Taking his photo albums and stowing them in a box he sat down, browsing through the collection of memorabilia. He smiled dimly at the pictures and sighed. His life; before Project, throughout his time as an operative at the Project facilities, the time after that, Cybertron, and his travels through space.

And Aki.

Tears gathered in Rhyan's eyes and he shut the album. Aki was still a sore spot and he knew he might never be able to deal with it. Spike had had to deal with his wife's death as well, but he had his children. He had friends. Aki and Rhyan..... they hadn't had any children and she had not died; she had left him. They had parted last year. They had talked about their future and Rhyan had accepted that Aki would outlive him, that she would be alone and a widow, and she had accepted that she would lose her human partner. Throughout their last months together both had agreed to save each other the pain, to go seperate ways, even if it was painful; very, very painful. Their last night together had been emotionally intense and Rhyan had never felt like it before, never....

To the other Interfaces it had been a "dumb decision", a "stupid idea" and "brainless", but they had gone through with it. Aki had left. Rhyan was alone. It hurt. It hurt so much and now he had to make the next decision. He had already made it because otherwise he wouldn't be packing. He and Daemon were one; he knew it, he felt it, he accepted it. Rhyan would become a Protogen life form to be with his partner. Maybe he would one day meet Aki again, maybe she would recognize him... and maybe he shouldn't even hope.

Someone knocked at the door. "Yes?" he asked.

The door slid open and Spike walked in. The silver-colored Protogen leader smiled at him and Rhyan mirrored the smile half-heartedly.

"How are you doing?"

"I don't know," Master answered truthfully.

Spike nodded. "I understand. Kyle and Disaster will start with the initial checks when you are ready. I'll be there to help and in case you have questions. Neither of us wants to push you and you have control all the time."

"Thanks." Rhyan brushed his hand over the photo album and then put it in the box. Daemon gently embraced him. <I'm okay>

<Liar>

He smiled.

Spike looked around the almost empty apartment. Rhyan had packed everything and it looked like he wouldn't come back. Well, he wouldn't. At least not to this room.

 

* * *

 

The med bay was as busy and bustling as always. Rhyan evaded several nurses, medics and patients, wandering around as if he had never been here. But he had, though it had been decades ago. The regular medical examinations were conducted in the smaller offices for human and human-sized patients. Now he let his eyes roam over the maze of labs, examination rooms, quarantine area, waiting rooms and medical stations. He stayed out of the way of everyone and just watched. Fear rose inside of him and he squelched. An uneasy feeling remained. After a while he walked deeper inside, looking for the Protogen facilities. Spike had shown him around once, but he had not wanted a closer look. Now he did.

"Hello, Rhyan."

The voice startled him and he became aware of the fact that he was in a lab he didn't recall entering. "Uhm, hi, Disaster," he said.

"I take it you aren't here for the visitor tour?" The Decepticon smiled slightly.

Rhyan grimaced. "No. I came to... well..."

"Have a look at a Protogen form," Disaster finished calmly.

Rhyan nodded. Disaster gestured him to follow him. They arrived the back lab. It was much smaller, full of weird looking equipment and there were two metal cylinders with a transparent lid. Disaster launched into a short explanation of the process, of what the machines were for, and Rhyan remembered and recalled a lot of it from his conversation with Spike. Disaster carefully lifted him on top of the main examination table and for the very first time, Masters saw a Protoform in its raw state. It was silvery in color, looked basically humanoid, but there were no features. Everything would develops with the insertion of the spark.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at the Decepticon medic. "To tell you the truth, no.... but I'm going through with it."

Disaster nodded. He knew the reason, he knew the backstory, and he knew what was at risk if it didn't work. Protogen technology had been developed and it was very safe; just as safe as a core transfer for a Cybertronian.

And soon it would happen to Dr. Rhyan Masters. His new Protogen body would have an additional feature, the one linking him to Daemon: the bionic implants he had in his organic body. It would be tricky, but it was manageable.

 

* * *

 

Spike sat in his office and tapped a pen against the notepad in front of him. His optics were fixed on a spot on the desk without even seeing it and held a faraway look. Backdraft, going through some of the more important files Spike needed to read through a well, looked up and smiled slightly.

"Spike?"

A distant 'hmm?' was all she got.

Her smile widening she called him again. "Spike!"

Spike's light blue optics brightened a bit and he seemed to blink. "Yes?"

"You are worried, right?"

He dropped the pen and shoved the notepad away, sighing. "It tells, huh?"

"In a way. It's Dr. Masters, isn't it? You are worried what he won't be able to cope with it."

Spike smiled slightly. "Yes and no. I'm worried about Rhyan, true, but not because I think he can't deal with being Protogen. I'm more worried about what will happen to Daemon."

Backdraft frowned. "Why? Rhyan will live and the implants will go with him into the new form, so they should be fine."

"Really? Daemon applied to get a new body as well. Disaster told me. He wants to get rid of his physical Sentinel side."

"He wants to become all Protogen?"

"Yes."

"And you are worried about what exactly?" Backdraft pressed on.

"I don't really know. I'm just worried." Spike sighed and played with the pen. "Maybe I read the logs about Synchrony once to often. I'm just overly suspicious of him. He was a killer once, Backdraft. I'm afraid what happens if Rhyan's transfer fails."

His second-in-command nodded slowly. "The transfer is no longer as dangerous as when you tried it. Rhyan won't die." Backdraft sounded convinced.

"What if I'm wrong and he can't handle being a robot?"

"You mean go insane?" Spike nodded. "He will have help, Spike. They will both make it."

Spike sighed and rose, pacing the length of his office. He stopped in front of the female Protogen. "I hope so," was all he said.

 

* * *

 

Rhyan hesitantly stepped into the deserted lab room. He knew Daemon was here and he knew his partner was waiting. Disaster had left them alone, telling Rhyan that they would have all the time in the world to reacquaint themselves. Rhyan and Daemon hadn't seen each other since before the transfer into the Protogen body had started. Masters had been aware of the background presence every single day, even when he had gone into deep sleep, and he had been aware of it after waking up. It had been almost the first of many sensations. A week had passed since the transfer and he was getting more and more used to this strange body. It didn't feel all that much different from a human one, though it was more enduring, taller, had transformation capabilities, and it was rather acceptable. He was as tall as Spike, which was taller than a human being but smaller than the average Cybertronian, and his chosen colors were dark green and blue. His optics were a dark yellow. Like all Protogen forms he had a more human face, smoother and almost as expressive as his human one.

"Daemon?" he asked, closing the door after him.

Something in the shadows in the farthest corner moved and two familiar red optics glowed in the darkness. Rhyan knew that Daemon has asked for a new body as well since the car would no longer be large enough to accommodate his partner. They were still a team and Rhyan had retained all his former implants, the means of their connection. For them to work together Daemon had chosen a new form; and since then he had refused to transform, as Disaster had told him. Rhyan had not yet decided what his alternate mode would be.

"How are you?" Daemon asked.

The voice was still the same and the feel of his partner as well, but Rhyan knew he would look different. He had lost the car mode.

"Okay, I think. I need to get used to this body and this life, but I'm okay." He approached the spot where Daemon sat. "You?"

"The same. I'm different."

"Daemon? Can I see you?"

A rumble echoed in the lab and it sounded hesitant. Daemon moved out of the shadows and Rhyan was surprised, really surprised, by the new looks. Daemon had chosen an animal form, that of a dragon. Unlike Spike he appeared heavier, armor-plated, kind of like Nightmare in horse mode. Still he had a lithe, sinewy look to himself. There were large wings folded at his side and the membranes looked almost organic. His head was shaped like a dragon's and looked almost realistic with a barely perceptible, metal gleam. Red, fiery optics, horns and spikes completed the picture. And he had chosen the color black, fitting his name and appearance. A demonic dragon. Daemon curled back his lips from sharp, silvery black teeth and the flexibility of the material surprised Rhyan.

"Hi, partner," he said softly.

Daemon's claws clicked on the cold metal floor as he moved closer. His nostrils flared as if he was taking in Rhyan's scent. He was full Protogen as well now, no longer half Sentinel. It had been his decision to be at least bodily free of his past. His memories would remain, but now he was no longer a Sentinel. Now he lowered his head. Rhyan looked into the fiery optics, saw the emotional turmoil inside, the hesitation, the waiting, the wanting, and his implants reacted. It was almost like the first time he had met Synchrony, when the Sentinel core unit had been nothing but a helpless assembly of chips, when he had been angry, afraid and torn between wanting and hating.

Rhyan opened the implant connection and Daemon's optics flared. Suddenly he pushed his head forward, pressing it against Rhyan's chest as if seeking physical closeness. Rhyan was surprised for a second, then he wrapped his arms around the large dragon head, dimming his optics, welcoming his partner back in his mind. Daemon hummed, a sound vibrating through him. The wings rustled as they shook with his reaction.

<I missed you>

<And I you. It'll be okay now. We are back>

Daemon sighed softly. <Thank you>

Rhyan knew what he meant and there were no further explanations needed. He hugged him tightly. <You are welcome> He rubbed the smooth metal skin that felt deceptively soft.

After a while they separated and Rhyan smiled at his partner. Daemon nudged him slightly and hummed again.

"What now?" Rhyan asked after a while.

"I don't know. Spike told me that even though we are Protogen he won't ask us to accept him as a commander. He will help us, but he wants us to feel free to choose what to do."

Daemon rumbled uneasily. "I don't want to be someone's subject to command!" he declared.

Rhyan patted the massive shoulder. "I know. I won't force you to do anything and I have to confess I'd like to get off Cybertron ASAP. Too many memories for me here as well now." He shivered slightly.

Daemon looked down at his still smaller but no longer human friend. Rhyan had spent the last decade on Cybertron and since Aki had left, he had not felt at home any more. He had given up his apartment before the transfer and Daemon knew from a few sneak looks through the link that he had given his possessions away or had destroyed them.

"Where to?" he only asked.

"Just away. Firefall gave us a ride once, maybe she can do it again. This time we take the cash cards along and give space travel a better try." A wry smile crossed his features.

Daemon smiled as well. "Will they let us again?"

"I think so, yes. Midnight mentioned something like that before I went to sleep. He said he'll take full responsibility."

"And I'll keep my word," a new voice said, startling both.

Daemon growled darkly and Rhyan automatically reached out and held him back. It was instinct. Midnight smiled at them, his darkness radiating off him in living waves of blackness. His green visor glowed softly and the expression on his face was pacifying and friendly.

"You'll get your ticket off Cybertron and we'll give you a ship as well. I know Firefall has offered to create a doorway again. Nobody will keep you here."

Daemon gave the Sentinel leader a suspicious look. "What's the catch? You gave us both new bodies and now you let us go. Why?"

Midnight smiled slightly. "I have to confess we had a plan, a plan behind the offer." Daemon's optics flared deep red. "But," Midnight continued, holding up his hands, "it's nothing you can't live with, believe me. We don't want any services in return; you don't owe us any debts. We did it because with Rhyan's death we would have had a big problem on our hands, namely Synchrony. Dealing with your past self is not one of my all-time favorite ideas of a good time. Killing you wasn't and never will be an option, Daemon. I persuaded the Council to go through with this, having help from Firefall as well, and there are no strings attached. You are free to leave any time, though I'd suggest you give yourself some time to get used to your new form."

Rhyan nodded. "We will. Thanks for the offer, Midnight," he said, clearly touched.

Midnight smiled. "You are welcome. Spike told me he got quarters for you." He handed Rhyan a chip. "This is the code key for the complex. In case of problems, any problems, you know you can turn to any of us. We want to help you."

"Thanks again," Rhyan whispered and stowed the key.

After Midnight was gone the Protogen human leaned against Daemon's shoulder, rubbing his forehead. "Can you get a headache as a robot?" he asked rhetorically.

Daemon chuckled. "Yes."

Rhyan only grimaced. Daemon suddenly curled part of his tail around Rhyan's waist in the gesture of a hug. Rhyan patted it, smiling.

"We'll be okay, partner. We'll be okay."


	2. Memorials

 

Somewhere else someone different was watching the stars and thinking as well. She was very different from Dr. Masters, but in a way they both were very much alike as well. Her name was Melissa Witwicky, daughter of Spike and Carly Witwicky, younger sister of Daniel. Yesterday had been the anniversary of her rebirth, today her brother was dead for 20 years. Daniel had died naturally in his sleep at the high age of 185, older than any human being could hope to achieve, but he had aged slowly due to prolonged space travel, a phenomenon discussed and observed by medical groups all over Earth. Like his father, their father, Spike, Daniel had aged slower than the average human and had lived longer, but in the end he had had to die like any other human as well. Mel had known it, she had accepted it, but she had never wanted it to happen. No one wanted their family to die or to be reminded of death so close, but in the end there had been no avoiding, no lying, no hiding it. The burial had been among family and friends, a few very selected ones, and like his mother Daniel had requested to be buried in a star. Earth was no longer his home and Cybertron, though a new home for decades, had never been either. So they had flown to Hope, the small sun that had already been Carly's burial place, and had watched the fires consume the metal casing around his body.

Mel closed her eyes and wished she could cry. It was something her father had once told her he was missing as well. She was no Protogen like him, and neither was she a Cybertronian, but she was robot enough to be denied this form of relief she had been used to decades ago. She was a hybrid, born through a freak accident in a doorway, and nearly as immortal as a Cybertronian. It had been a hard time for her to adjust, but she had managed with help from friends. She had learned about her body, had discovered she could transform as well, had found her new abilities useful, and she had retained her empathy toward robots.

And she would have given it all to safe her brother from death. But Daniel had not gone the way Spike and she had gone. As a child he had been the Headmaster partner of Arcee and he had fought against separation, had always wanted to be back in a robotic shell and bonded to a Cybertronian, preferably Arcee, but when he had grown up, founded a family, he had lost this daydream. Spike had asked him if he wanted to transfer into a Protogen form, but Daniel had declined.

"I am human, Dad. I always was, I always will be, and I'll be forever grateful to you and Mom that you insisted to separate me from Arcee. It was for the best."

And now he was dead. He had been for the last twenty years and Mel always thought she should get used to it, but she couldn't. It was a loss no one could help her with, not even Nightmare, and she knew her father had to carry this burden as well. He had lost his wife, her mother, to the Tji War, he had lost Daniel to death, and she knew both of them would one day lose DJ as well. Dana Janine, her niece and Spike's grand-daughter, had left Cybertron to explore the universe right after her father's death and though they received letters and voice mails, DJ had never returned to Cybertron.

"I knew I'd find you here," a dark voice said and someone sat down beside her.

Mel looked up and smiled sadly. Nightmare knew she hated this anniversary and always sought out a quiet and lonely spot. And he always followed her after a while to keep her company until the morning. She was grateful and it was almost a ritual. She owed so much to this robot, starting from her sanity to her current life today. They had come a very long way, both of them, especially in their relationship.

Now she gazed at the stars again, knowing somewhere else her father might be having the same thoughts about Daniel. "It's a beautiful night. As always."

Nightmare nodded. "It is."

"I wish he had chosen differently," she whispered. It was a topic that always came up.

"You know he would have been unhappy."

Mel nodded. "I know," she said slowly. "I wouldn't have done it either if the accident hadn't done it for me."

Nightmare put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her gently. He had felt guilty about the accident for a long time and had lost this guilt only slowly. It hadn't been his fault and it never could have been. The change had even saved her life, though up until today no one could explain why and how it had happened. Something had fused her organic body with a robotic shell. The metal was closely related to the Sentinel structure, but as to how it had happened it was a mystery. Mel really didn't want to know anymore. Whatever had done this, it had helped her and it had reborn her.

And it had given them both a chance.

"MJ?"

"Hm?"

"Did you ever regret it?"

She blinked and looked at her companion, having heard the slight note of apprehension in his voice. Nightmare was not a very outgoing person where emotions were concerned. He was rather balanced and calm on the outside. His job as a Gatekeeper on Crea had given him an inner peace with his past as a Decepticon Assassin and his death, and there were few occasions when the Assassin came through. He still had his old abilities, but he no longer was a Decepticon. He was a Gatekeeper and he loved his job. Mel, as an empath, had a better knowledge of the real Nightmare and curiously enough he was the only one she could read so clearly and deeply without having to draw up on her hidden reserves.

"Regret what?" she asked.

"That you made this step to Shield?"

Mel smiled slightly. "No. I didn't lose anything, if you think so. I only gained."

Shield was her 'Cybertronian' name. She had chosen to let Melissa Witwicky die, just like Spike had let his human name perish in the annals of history as well. She still was Melissa Witwicky deep down inside, just like he was Adam, but on the outside she was Shield. She had further trained her abilities, she had become a part of Cybertronian life, and a part of Nightmare's.

Mel leaned against him and felt his hand tighten around her. It had taken them decades and Nightmare still questioned his luck now and then, but she had shown him there was nothing lucky about it. There was a bond between them that had been created when she had only been a child and had strengthened with every year.

 

 

Nightmare hugged Mel, holding her, enjoying their rare moment of closeness. He owed his current life to many factors, but one key element had been his team mate. Raven had always known that he felt more than just friendship for Melissa Witwicky, but she had respected his private life, had never interefered. And there had never been a future for them, something he had accepted right from the start, but Nightmare had vowed that he would enjoy every moment of the short while they had. And then there had been the fateful accident.... and it had opened a door.

 

 

 _It had been three months now since they had had the fateful doorway transit._

 _Three months since Melissa Witwicky had been transformed into an alien robot._

 _Three long months....._

 _Nightmare had never felt like this before in all his long life. Sitting in a corner of the doorway chamber, legs drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, he was trying to straighten out the emotional turmoil inside of him. In his past he had never had either the drive nor the wish to find a partner. He had been created as an Assassin and had lived his life as such. There had been females under his command, but they had all been friends. Well, except for one. Prisma. The relationship had been intense and short, her life ended by a stray shot in the battle field._

 _After his rebirth as a Gatekeeper he had spent his time alone on Crea, with only Bat as a companion, and he had never missed anything. Now..... He felt something for Mel, something he couldn't define in words, and it didn't matter what she was. He was drawn to her soul.... It sounded corny, but that was what he felt when she was near him. They understood the other, they could feel each other, they were connected. Suddenly someone sat down beside him and when he looked up, he met the yellow eyes of Raven._

 _"What are you doing here?" he asked._

 _Raven shrugged. "Just thought I might pop in. I think it was a good decision."_

 _Nightmare tried to get his mind straightened out. "I....."_

 _"Stop," Raven said and he stared at her in surprise. "I know what you want to say and it's not what I want to hear. What I want to hear is you telling me what you feel for her."_

 _"Who?" he asked weakly._

 _"Please...." she said, voice pained. "Did you think I could miss it? We are partners!" Nightmare looked away. "You love her, Nightmare, and I think it's a beautiful thing."_

 _"No, it isn't," he whispered._

 _"Why?"_

 _Nightmare's shoulder's shook. "We don't have a future, Raven, don't you see? She is human! Okay, she looks like a robot, but MJ is human ...... She doesn't feel like I do!" Desperation was clearly audible in his voice._

 _"Are you sure?"_

 _"What?" he asked, confused._

 _"Are you sure she doesn't feel for you what you feel for her? Are you so sure she doesn't return your love?" Raven wanted to know._

 _"She is human, Raven. Her perceptions are those of a human, and I am a robot. She sees a machine in me, nothing more, noting less." Nightmare shook his head. "It's ....it's a wild dream that will never come true."_

 _Raven placed a slim hand on his arm. "Have you asked her?"_

 _Nightmare stared at her in shock. "Ask?" he croaked._

 _She smiled. "You know.... ask. Pose a question. Inquire."_

 _He shook his head. "No, I can't!"_

 _"You can." She rose in one fluid motion. "Talk to her. See how she feels......"_

 _Nightmare watched her disappear and fear rose inside him. Talk with Mel. No problem – until she had become a robot. When she had been human he had loved her, but he had never seen any future. Now... now there was one, a possible one, but he was afraid. Terribly, terribly afraid._

 

And somehow it had worked out. It had taken some time, a lot of patience from MJ's side, and even more butt-kicking from friends, but it had worked.

"Did you hear about the trouble brewing around the new sectors?" Mel asked after a while, trying to distract herself.

"Yes. The new Protogens are trying some kind of power play. No one knows why, but they are different. Something about their personalities is unlike any Cybertronian ever born and their core units, the sparks, are just transferred personality cores. Optimus and the whole Council are worried." Nightmare shrugged. "Looks like sectors Phy and Xerion are soon going to be a whole lot of trouble."

"What does the Council want to do about it?"

Nightmare frowned. "As far as Megatron is concerned, go in and teach the 'young ones' a lesson. Optimus Prime is for following the contract we made with the Protogen group not to interfere with them. They are different from Cybertronians, but in a way they are Cybertronians nevertheless. Spike says even though he is Protogen himself, one of the first, he won't get involved. Neither do the others of his team."

Mel nodded. "They have to sort it out themselves, but somehow I feel like something is wrong. The aggression some of them reveal is unnatural. It's like they were born hating others."

The Gatekeeper had to agree. "Still, Protogen don't belong to the allied forces, they are their own. Like the Junkions and the Paratronians they are just friends and they live their own lives in other sectors. Whatever they problem is, we can't interfere."

"And if we caused their problems?" Mel asked softly, almost thoughtfully.

Nightmare shot her a quizzical look. "Caused them? How? Through what?"

She shook her head. "I don't know really. It's just this weird feeling. Somehow I think something happened to the core programs inside the containment units. Something we had an influence over, but I'm not sure what it really is. Call it a hunch."

Nightmare gave her a long look, then simply shrugged. The moon set slowly and they watched the spectacle in silence. Mel shivered once when the sphere had disappeared. Now the next year started. She would go and visit her father soon. Spike was away a lot, traveling to the doorway planets where the doorway had been destroyed, using the transwarp ship Axis. Sometimes she wished she could leave as well, but then again, this planet held a lot for her.

"Let's go," she whispered and stood slowly.

Nightmare rose as well and transformed into his equine mode. Mel got the hint, smiling, and jumped onto the broad, armored back. Gaining speed Nightmare galloped back to the sprawling city of West Central.


	3. Regrets

The black jet was flying at rather moderate speed over Cybertron's South Continent. No light reflected off its surface; it was actually more or less sucked into the darkness surrounding the jet. It was like a small aura around the machine, a protection as well as a weapon. Inside the cockpit sat an armor-clad human. He wasn't actually flying the jet, just watching the landscape fly by. A lot had changed in the centuries, reviving the torn and shredded South Continent. A lot of work had been poured into this, trying to erase the ugly war wounds, but it had not erased the memories of those who had been there when the Tji had struck, when the South Continent and South Port had vanished. Midnight and Steve had been there. Midnight had nearly died in the aftermath and Steve still shivered at the memories. The two partners had faced death a thousand times, had come close to losing the other and dying as well, but at that time Steve had been afraid as never before.

Midnight suddenly transformed, Steve shifting automatically into the Interface space of his robot partner, and touched down. He looked around, seeing nothing left of the destruction that had reigned here nearly a century ago. So much time and still so little had changed in their minds. Reality showed him repaired buildings, rebuilt monorails and lights in the office buildings, but his mind's eyes compared it with what had been. It had been the first real war he had been involved. The constant battles against the Seekers from the past had been only that: battles. Small confrontations. But the Tji.... it had been an all-out war of destruction, death and loss. All of them, Autobots, Decepticons, Sentinels and Seekers had suffered losses. As had the Venerakkin. He felt a stab of emotional pain.

The Venerakkin had left Cybertron about five years ago. He had seen it coming, the tensions between the groups rising to a level where anything could have snapped the thin control. Finally Firefall had decided to relocate their kind. They would still be in contact, but the Venerakkin base was no longer on this planet. With the departure, a lot of newly-found friends had left as well. Midnight sighed and shook his head.

"She will come back, Mid."

He smiled sadly and looked at his human partner. "Maybe. I wouldn't bet on it, though. Cybertron is not their home and never was. She wasn't born here and though her parentage is Cybertronian in a way, Tarakk will never come back here again."

"She has a reason," Steve reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? Don't make me laugh, Steve. We fought so much in the past that this frail peace and tenuous relationship we have is not enough to let her come back and face the music. I talked to her before she left. I know she won't come back." Midnight shook his head. "Maybe I'll visit her one day, but right now they want to be on their own."

Steve hoisted himself up on a wall. "Rikkochet is an often-seen guest here, so don't give up so easily. There is something between the two of you and nothing can break it. Confess it, Mid, you like her a lot as well."

"Yes, I like her. And she likes me as well, but there is a lot of stuff working against us, starting with me being a Sentinel and her being Venerakkin."

"Ah, come on and stuff it!" Steve exclaimed. "You worked well together for the last years!"

"Worked, yes. Lived, no. Steve, please stop it, okay?" the Sentinel leader snapped.

He sighed. "Okay, okay."

Midnight fidgeted for a while and then sat down, leaning against the wall. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's just...."

"It's just that you don't understand your own feelings," Steve finished softly.

Midnight nodded and rubbed his forehead. "I wish something in my life would just go right. Just once. I get born in the middle of a small war between two groups I never really belonged to. I am different from every single robot I ever met, I stand out like a beacon, just without a light, and I freak out everyone I meet, including you."

Steve gently reached out and touched his friend's mind through the Interface link, reassuring him. "Hey, I was hurt, I was frightened, I had been kidnapped by a maniac, and I was in a lot of pain. I Interfaced and didn't know what it was, and neither did you."

Midnight sighed deeply. "And because of the Interface we were hunted. The Seekers wanted us back because Braintrust wanted you for himself and me dead. The Sentinels feared us, avoided us, and in the end blamed me for Thon Roque's death."

"Mid...."

"I know, I know. It wasn't my fault and only Dagger blamed me, but at the time it was enough. And then they had the guts to make me their leader, push me right in the middle of it and tell me I'm the right one for the job!"

"You were the right one, partner," Steve reminded him with a smile.

Midnight mirrored the smile. "Yeah, that's what they thought. I still think I just bumbled along."

"Pretty well, I have to say."

"Still, I was always an outsider."

"Because you were different. I made you different."

Midnight's head whipped around. "No!" he protested. "Don't think I ever blamed our Interface on it! Without you I wouldn't be here today. Braintrust would probably have killed me sooner or later. I was too different and would one day have been too dangerous to him as well. Steve.... I owe you my life! I never blamed you for anything."

"Then stop it. We both are different from anyone else and nothing and no one can ever change it. And your difference didn't drive Tarakk away. She has to follow her kind. You would do the same, wouldn't you? If the Sentinels left Cybertron, you would follow, even if Tarakk were still here."

"But I'm the Sentinel leader...!"

"And if you weren't, you'd do the same. She has to find her fate and she has to come to terms with her feelings. You have to as well." Steve held the green optics. "Mid, believe me, she will come back one day. She has to stabilize her own life, get her own life."

Midnight sighed deeply. "I wish we had come as far as Optimus Prime and Rikkochet before they had left. At least then I'd have some hope."

Steve gave him a mental kick in the butt. "Hey! Come on! You two came a long way since the end of the war. You are talking already." He gave Midnight a broad grin.

Midnight snorted, giving his partner a half-hearted glare. Yes, he and Tarakk had come a long way, from avoiding each other to talking, to steady dates to a more comfortable relationship to a growing trust. Still, Tarakk had left.

<<It's not your fault>> Steve repeated through the link.

<<But it feels better if it is. At least then I have someone to blame>>

<<Just the wrong person, partner>>

Midnight stared at the ground. He had blamed himself for so much in the past that this was just a new guilt to add.

<<Midnight, please..... Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't influence. When we Interfaced it wasn't your fault either. I know you carried the guilt for a long time, but you lost it. We both grew into a lot more than we were before and we both accepted what we became. I'd never want to be anywhere else>> He gently moved closer to his partner, opening his mind. Midnight hesitantly reached out as well and accepted the hug. <<And Tarakk will come back. Believe me>>

<<I wish I could>>

Steve smiled. "You already do."

"I wish."

They stayed there for a while, then Midnight transformed and Steve automatically phased. The black Sentinel fired his engines and shot off into the sky, passing into space. He chose a Gate at random and then jumped. He needed some time off-planet and Steve agreed. Midnight got rid of his angry energy by burning off through speeding, and doing that on Cybertron might be a bad idea. Wherever they went, it would be better for him than just sitting around.


	4. Delicate Matters

Midnight stood outside the closed door to Ashtar's quarters, his green visor pinned on the obstacle between him and his partner, his mind searching for a way to get past the shields Steve had erected around his mind. Everything else was suddenly unimportant as he desperately wanted to know how his partner was. Steve had contacted him briefly to tell him everything was okay, then he had slammed up the shield. Midnight had caught a brief glimpse of Ashtar sleeping. Steve hadn't shown pain or fear in his transmission, but other emotions had come across. The Sentinel was familiar with them, but right now they worried him more than anything else. Breaking in would be a display of missing trust and he wished he were bold enough to risk it.

Ashtar was a feline! A predator! And she was in heat, for Cybertron's sake! Steve had no clue what could happen -- and neither had Midnight -- and the Sentinel's worry rose in proportion with the passing time.

"She won't hurt him," a weak voice said and he flinched. He had totally forgotten about Fang!

"What?" he stammered.

Fang drew himself up and leaned against the wall. "She won't hurt him," he repeated. "It's not the first time she encounters someone of another race."

Midnight blinked. "Uhm ...."

Fang smiled weakly. "I know you hate the idea that Steve is inside with her, alone and without any real protection, but so do I." He winced a bit and his visor flickered. "I think they are doing fine so far."

Midnight shook his head about the way the other Sentinel was talking about the whole matter. Like it was normal! Something like taking a shower or having lunch! He winced. Having lunch....

<<Steve, talk to me, damnit!>>

There was no answer, only the shield.

"It might take a while," Fang went on, still sounding strained.

Midnight got the hint and though he was reluctant to leave, he and Fang slowly made it to one of the empty quarters in the next corridor. Fang sank down on a chair with a relieved sigh, rubbing his forehead.

"Shield holding?" Midnight asked casually as he tried to get the energon dispenser working.

Fang smiled ruefully. "Not really. I never managed to blend her .....ehm...heat out; it's impossible. I can't keep it from hitting me like this......" He lowered his head in embarrassment.

Midnight placed energon in front of his fellow Sentinel and smiled. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Fang. We all have our little problems."

Fang sighed and played with the cube. "I don't think anyone has mine."

"Well, not yours exactly, but similar ones..." He sat down and regarded the newest member of his group. "But our Interface partners are part of us and each one in this group has accepted the others needs and quirks." He grinned.

Fang looked up and a fine smile played around his lips. "Hell of a quirk," he remarked dryly.

Months had passed since he had come here and though he still had problems adapting to the changes, he had grown into a member of the Sentinels on Cybertron. He knew only some of the surviving ones, mainly because he had been split off from the fleeing robots as they had been driven from Cybertron. He had spent his time alone and searching -- for what he had never known until he had met Ashtar. It had been a long and lonely time.

Now he was back.

Fang regarded the young Sentinel in front of him, noting the worry in the bright green visor-optics. Midnight was a mystery to him, though he had tried to understand what this robot was. He was young for a Sentinel; he had never lived through the slave times and the war. Skywolf had told him that he was a Sleeper, making him different from his own kind in so many ways. Fang had heard about Sleepers and looking at Midnight he knew why they had been talked about with fear and awe. When he had first met him, facing him in battle, he had also faced the raw and untamed power of what Skywolf called 'the aura'. The aura ... the blackness .... a fearsome addition to a rather slender body. Midnight's character was completely opposite to his frightening exterior. He was a calm and gentle person, but there was an underlying temper Fang didn't want to face. The Sentinels and also the Seekers respected him a lot.

"Has Steve ever .... taken a partner?" Fang suddenly asked.

The question caught Midnight completely off guard and he made a coughing sound.

"Not really, no." He looked at his hands. "He had female ... encounters, but nothing that lasted." Fang smiled slightly at the open discomfort the other displayed and the rueful undertone that was barely even detectable. "But only when he couldn't .... you know ... humans have no regular heat they go through, but they have needs." Midnight made a weak gesture.

"I understand. Why has he never tried?"

There was silence for some time. Then Midnight said softly, "Because of the consequences love has." He was staring at the table, his hands clasping each other. "Because if he allows himself to feel more than a fleeting emotion for the other partner he will be hurt more when she dies."

Fang saw a lot of pain in the other's face -- and a bit of guilt.

"The curse of immortality," Midnight whispered.

Fang nodded. It reminded him a lot of what Ashtar was feeling. Both Interfaces were sooner willing to continue a solitary existence than to see another get hurt because of their 'condition'.

Midnight tried to get through again and was greeted by the already-known shield. He rubbed his forehead and looked at Fang. "Pardon me for prying, but can you feel anything?"

Fang smiled a bit. "Not really. I think she fell asleep."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It means nothing has happened so far and that it isn't over yet."

"Oh goody," Midnight muttered.

"I told you she won't hurt him," Fang insisted. "Trust me!"

"And I believe you. I'm simply worried, that's all. The usual worry." He smiled lop-sidedly. "Can't get rid of it."

Fang chuckled. "If your partner really goes through with it all.... you know what to expect?"

If Midnight could have blushed he would have. "Errrr...yes...."

"Good."

"Our shields are rather solid," the Sentinel leader added.

"How long have you been Interfaced?" Fang asked conversationally.

"Nearly all my life," the black Sentinel said softly, almost to himself. From his tone of voice Fang heard more than the other was telling him. There was a long and probably not very happy background story to it. "In standard years ... about 2000."

Fang nodded. He had been right. Midnight was pretty young for a Sentinel, but yet there was something very old to him. And the two partners were very close and had been so since Midnight's birth or shortly afterwards.

Suddenly Fang tensed. His optics flickered and he gasped. Midnight jumped up, wondering what to do. Fang waved his helping hands off.

"'Tis okay," he wheezed.

 

* * *

 

Midnight stiffened, suddenly on full alert as the shields his partner had erected around his mind wavered. Fear and apprehension leaked through, and Midnight instantly probed the link with Steve, find more of the negative emotions mixed with a rising passion. The Sentinel leader was treated to a brief view of Ashtar's face, her predatory expression all too plain on her face just before Steve's shields cut off the link again.

Midnight panicked, jumping to his feet. "You have to let me in there! She's going to hurt Steve!"

Fang looked at him, confused. A quick probe of his own Interface link told him Ashtar was doing nothing of the kind, but it did tell him where Midnight had gotten the idea. It wasn't unusual for Ashtar to play with her partner once she regained some control of her body's needs, but he'd never been put on the spot like this, having to explain it to someone who probably had no idea what was going on.

Midnight grew more jumpy as he watched Fang, finally leaning over to pull the older Sentinel to his feet.

"You have to let me in there!" he repeated.

Fang shook his head, a look of reassurance on his face. "She isn't hurting him, it was just your imagination."

"My imagination?!" Midnight got out. "I didn't imagine it!"

"Look, I know you aren't used to this...It was bound to stress your Interface circuits."

"Fang! Stop it! I want Steve out of there!" He glared. "Stressed circuits, my afterburners, Fang...This is serious!"

Fang gave Midnight a long penetrating look, then sighed and ducked his head. Nothing other than a straight answer would satisfy the black one.

"She's playing with him, Midnight...She won't hurt him."

Midnight inhaled sharply, his optic visor flaring. "Playing?!"

Fang eyed Midnight quizzically. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Midnight's slightly panicked, confused expression said it all.

Fang sighed. "Trust me, Mid, she's not going to hurt him." He sat back down, leaning

back in his seat and dimming his optics. 'She'll make him suffer a bit, but she won't hurt him,' he added silently.

"How do you know?! I can't even talk to Steve through the shields he has up!"

Fang optics flashed angrily. "Ashtar's my Interface, dammit, and -I- don't have the luxury of being able to shield her out of my mind! Don't you think I'd know if she were hurting him?" he snarled.

Midnight blinked at him in surprise. "I...I.."

Fang crossed his arms on the table and leaned on them, head down. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"Fang..." Midnight stopped him mid-apology.

The older Sentinel looked up, a pained, embarrassed expression on his face. Midnight couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, and they both sat in strained but companionable silence.

 

* * *

 

Midnight stepped into med bay, his visored optics searching for the one person he wanted to talk to. Skywolf was working on something over by the lab section and Midnight hesitantly walked over to him.

"Wolf?"

He looked up and smiled at his friend. "Hi, Mid. What can I do for you?"

"Uhm, can we ....talk?"

Skywolf looked at his younger leader and shrugged, handing his note pad over to the Autobot standing close by. He gestured Midnight to follow him to his office.

When the door had closed after them, Skywolf turned, leaning back against his cluttered desk and tilted his head.

"Well?"

"Uhm..."

"You already said that."

Midnight paced, which was quite hard in the small cubicle Skywolf called an office, but he managed it nevertheless.

"I need to know something.... well, I want to ask something...."

Skywolf watched him, noting the agitation he spread like a shield around him.

"It's ..uhm .... Fang..." He flailed a bit. "Well, not Fang but Ashtar," he added quickly as he noticed Skywolf's darkening expression. "And Steve."

The medic felt realization hit him. "Oh." He barely suppressed a chuckle.

"It's not funny, Skywolf!"

"Of course not." Now he grinned openly.

"Skywolf!" Midnight wailed.

"Okay, okay, not funny.... just amusing." Midnight scowled. "So, what problem is the worst?"

"I think you know," his leader muttered.

"Ahhh...."

"Don't 'ahhhh' me, Wolf! Tell me how to handle it!" Desperation could be heard. "It's ... it's overwhelming. I can't shield it!"

"Just a matter of learning how to. You'll work through it."

Midnight moaned and slumped against the wall. "I'm happy for Steve. I mean .... you know." Skywolf nodded. "But all those little encounters he had are nothing compared to, well ...."

"I understand."

"It's the emotions. So intense...." Midnight went on. He met his friend's optics. "You and Jill had to master this ... how?" he blurted.

Skywolf chuckled. "Don't you think that's kind of private to ask?"

Midnight sighed softly. "You're right. I ..." He gestured weakly. "I'll better go."

Skywolf laughed and held him back. "Wait, kid. Listen, it's okay to ask. Maybe I can really help you."

Hope flickered inside the green visor.

"I don't know how intense the emotions coming over the link are," the medic continued and looked at him. Midnight winced and Skywolf grinned. "Ah, that intense."

"Well...."

"Midnight, it's okay," he interrupted him. "It's a side of Interfacing you didn't have to face yet. At least not in such an intensity."

"Kinda," Midnight muttered.

"Let me tell you, it's nothing compared to a birth."

"What?!" Midnight stammered, staring at him.

Skywolf chuckled. "Jill's sexual interaction with her partner was something I had to get used to and my shields were often not very sturdy, but I learned. I had to. But when she was pregnant...." He shrugged, slightly embarrassed himself now. "Giving birth is something I had never thought I'd experience. It's ... there are no words for it. Jill's shields went down completely and I got a full broadside."

"I didn't know...."

"It was before your time. All her children were already grown up when you came to us," Skywolf explained with a fine smile.

"Ah."

"Just be glad your partner is male," Skywolf added with a grin.

"Yeah, well....."

"As for shields. Well, you know the first signs because Steve has met women in the past, though it's been quite a time since something intense happened."

"Skywolf, please!"

"It's not criticism, Mid. Believe me!"

Midnight hung his head. "Oh."

"Anyway, you won't be able to do much but shield when it happens. You can't really request Steve to tell you every time he.... joins... but you can watch for signs." He smiled at his friend's unhappy expression. "You won't be spying, Midnight. You can feel this even without having an open link. Steve won't always be able to keep his shields up – it's impossible. But you can work on not letting this whole flood of emotions bury yourself, paralyze you...."

"How?"

"Practice."

"Hmpf."


	5. Just a Simple Mistake

The large robot walked through the underground base of the Sentinels, nodding greetings at those he passed, his purposeful stride taking him to what served as the medical department for their small group. He was one of the bodily largest of his kind, an imposing sight, and also one of the oldest among them. As he stepped into the med room, Skywolf looked up and smiled a greeting, gesturing him to wait a few seconds until he was done.

"Hi, Roque. Long time no see," Jill called.

"I was busy."

"Oh, that's what all leaders say. You need to get out of your stuffy office more often, big guy."

He grimaced. "I do get out."

"Yeah, right, to kick Braintrust's scaly butt across the next star system." Jill sighed theatrically. "You need to take a few days off and relax."

Relax, yeah..... Thon Roque shook his head. How could he relax? Not only was Braintrust currently at large again, hunting organics for his mad experiments, he also had a young, very distraught robot to take care of. And this young robot was the reason he was here today. It had been a week now that Midnight had managed the impossible and beaten the VR system Winterhawk had invented; a week that he had nearly died because of Thon Roque's stupidity; a week since the only 100% Interface relationship had nearly been destroyed.

"Are you and Rayan conspiring?" he now asked.

"Oh, I would never ever think of conspiring, but if even your own partner gets annoyed by your behavior, it's time to think of something new," the woman said lightly. "We got Ray to accept that there is something like off-time and also introduced him to the meaning of sleep and food, so I guess we can manage the same with you if you insist."

Thon Roque chuckled. "I won't risk your treatment, Jill. No offense."

"Let me guess why you are here," Skywolf now joined them. "Our young guest?"

Roque nodded. "How is he?"

"Healing. That's all I can say. Steven is conscious and he seems to take this all in a stride. I don't know why, but he is less angry or afraid than his partner is."

Jill nodded in agreement. "Kayla and I talked to him and he is quite open, and he is curious about all of us. We both spent hours explaining everything he wanted to know, and believe me, he can ask quite some interesting questions. He has a quick mind and he is very open to everything new."

"While Midnight is the opposite. He is afraid we might hurt Steve again. He keeps to himself and he only comes in when he is scheduled for another medical check." Skywolf shrugged. "His skin is healing and he is back to almost normal operational-wise, but he is a very disturbed young Sentinel."

Thon Roque sighed deeply, but noting with satisfaction that Skywolf had called the young robot a Sentinel. Still, he had been afraid of this. "I'll talk to him," he decided.

Skywolf looked doubtful, especially since Midnight flinched away from every single one of them, and Thon Roque was not exactly the most trust-inspiring Sentinel. He was the most massive and clearly armored of them, a former fighting machine for ground assaults, and it showed. He had a soft and gentle nature, but at first sight others retreated to a safe distance. Not that Midnight appeared any less threatening with his black aura, but right now he was in no condition to see past outside appearances. The last time he had seen him the gray of his skin had gradually been replaced by a deeper shade and the scars were no longer as pronounced, but except for Skywolf no other Sentinel could come close to him without Midnight going into the defensive. It had been a challenge to let another one touch him for a quick examination.

"I'll be careful," Thon Roque now added with a smile. "I know he is fragile."

"Fragile is not the word for it, Roque. He is scared and injured. A dangerous combination. Just be very, very careful," Skywolf advised.

Thon Roque left and called Labyrinth to get a fix on Midnight's position. Spotting the small black hole on legs wouldn't be so hard.

 

* * *

 

Midnight was outside the base, letting the harsh autumn storm wash over him, feeling it sting in his freshly healed wounds, but he ignored it all. His optics were fixed on the sky above, a place he was born to live in – fly... fly forever. Get away from here. Get somewhere safe. But where was this safe place? Braintrust was hunting him because he had Interfaced, he had no friends and the Sentinels didn't trust him. He was alone, except for his human partner, and Steve was his main worry. He had to insure that he was safe as well.....

"I am safe, Mid. Here."

Midnight looked down at the armor-clad humanoid form. Steve was wearing a black exo-suit that protected him from almost everything, including a direct blast from a Seeker's gun. Like Midnight he had been healing slowly but nicely and there were hardly any reminders from their ordeal, except the faint healing scars on Midnight's skin.

"I don't know," the black robot now said softly, using the personal intercom.

"Do we have any other choice? We can't go on alone! You know that. We need friends."

"They aren't friends. They tried to kill us!"

"It was a mistake."

Midnight shook his head, sighing.

"It was a mistake," a deep voice rumbled and he flinched violently.

"Thon Roque!"

The large Sentinel leader smiled. "Hello, Midnight. Steve." He nodded at the human. Steve waved. "Midnight, can we talk?"

The younger robot moved a few steps away from the much larger one. "I..... I.... I.... please stay away..."

"Midnight, please...!" Thon Roque reached out, but Midnight evaded the touch, shaking.

"Don't!" he choked.

"I just want to talk to you," the Sentinel leader said softly.

But Midnight didn't listen. The black jet shot away from Thon Roque and the Sentinel sighed deeply, cursing under his breath.

"Sorry," Steve apologized. "I wish I could get him to listen.... or to just stay put."

Thon Roque looked down at him. "So do I. What is he so afraid of? We made a mistake, but we wouldn't hurt any of you ever again!"

"I know that and somehow he knows it as well. It's hard to put his fears into words, but in a way he is more afraid of what might happen to me than what could happen to him." Steve rubbed his neck. "Or what danger he might be to you."

The wind howled around them and Thon Roque wished he could take those fears away from the young robot. One mistake... just one stupid mistake! After a while he transformed and opened a door. Steve accepted the offer and climbed inside without any hesitation.

"Give him more time and me a chance to kick him a bit harder," the human now said. "It's been a week and it all is too fresh in his mind. I hardly have any memories as to what happened, but he went through it several times. I know what happened through the link, but he keeps the worst bits behind shields." Steve leaned back and clicked the helmet open. His bright blue eyes stared through the windscreen. "I know why you did it, Thon Roque," he said seriously. "I accept it and I won't ever hold those events against you. I want this to work."

"So do I," the Sentinel rumbled. "I'm glad that you don't share Midnight's animosity," he then said.

Steve smiled. "I know why you did it; I understand it. I have gotten to know Braintrust and his Seekers, though not all seem to share their leader's sentiment toward Interfacing or share his view of what methods to use. But I know why you saw us as a danger, and adding to this Midnight's appearance...."

Roque sighed. "Looking different shouldn't make you an enemy," he muttered. "He is special, Steve. Very, very special."

Parker nodded, a faraway expression on his still slightly pale features. "We all are, one way or the other."

"True."

They rode in silence for a while and Thon Roque did a quick scan of his passenger's metabolism to reassure himself that Steve was okay.

"Is he okay?" the Sentinel asked after a while.

Steve nodded. "Confused. Very, very confused at the moment, but okay. I told him that you two need to talk and he said he'd think about it. Give him some more time."

"I'll give him all the time he needs, Steve, but he needs to give me the time to talk."

Steve's features creased into a smile. "One day he will," he said softly.


	6. Hall of Memories

The purple and silver colored robot stood motionless like a giant statue, his deep red optics fixed on the wasteland before him. This had been his home once, for a brief time, until the Tji had destroyed it. He still remembered the day he had stood here, in exactly the same spot, and had watched what had remained of his home smolder and burn, a few remaining fires going on even though the strike had been days before. And he remembered the helpless anger he had felt, the fear lodged deep down inside of an enemy who had so ruthlessly killed his comrades, his friends, and had simple moved on; an enemy not out to conquer, just to destroy as much as it could.

Charr had not been a very fertile or blooming planet to begin with, but after Unicron's defeat, after the Autobots had risen again and the new Golden Age had dawned, it had been the only place the Decepticons had still been able to call home. Optimus Prime had left them alone, not at all interested in hunting them down and killing every single last of them. They had lived here, had worked on a new way to claim back what they thought was theirs, and then Braintrust had entered the stage, making an offer to Galvatron he had been unable to turn down. Everything had started from there.

Cyclonus sighed deeply. Yes, Galvatron. Created by the same power he, Cyclonus, had been born from, just with a much greater mind, a greater intellect, then destroyed by the fateful plasma powers on the desolate world they had found him on after the battle. He had been Megatron once, one of the greatest Decepticon leaders, and he had deteriorated from this day on. A raving lunatic, more feared than respected, only in the position of leader because he had a fiercely loyal lieutenant in Cyclonus. Cyclonus had always been there, had always protected him from the other Decepticons who had suffered from the spells of madness, but in the end even Cyclonus had wondered if this was really the best. Then again, what other leader would be able to stay atop of this mob? If he took over himself the others would stab him in the back one day and fight over the empty throne.

The solution had come in form of an unexpected gift from someone who had been out to destroy them, a human woman so filled with hatred she had done everything in her powers to kill those she loathed. Her plan had backfired and in the end it had given the Decepticons back who they had needed most: Megatron. And with Megatron, life had been renewed. It had taken an unexpected course, bringing them closer to Cybertron not as conquerors but as allies. A lot of time had passed since they had set foot back on their homeplanet and even more time had passed since the alliance had been fortified through battles back to back with their enemies. A new form of respect had been created and both sides had changed.

Cyclonus smiled dryly. Yes, they had changed. The Decepticons had discovered that there was more to the Autobots than the respect for life they always preached, the protective streaks, the inability to kill. The encounter with the Tji had changed them profoundly. Optimus Prime had changed profoundly. They could kill, they could be just as ruthless as the Decepticons, and they wouldn't yammer on about what they had had to do. They accepted, they learned, they moved on. Many of his troops had wondered about the changes, but those were healthy changes, necessary changes, long overdue changes. In the Tji Wars mercy for the enemy had not been rewarded; it had been punished with death. The Tji had had no mercy and they had killed hundreds of their kind.

Their kind.

Cyclonus' smile turned slightly wry. Cybertronians. Autobot and Decepticon still meant something, but they were all Cybertronians. A few decades could not erase millions of years of war, but the last fight for survival, a survival against an enemy so overpowering that no group had seen a chance to survive alone, had fused them together. Sure, there were fights among individuals, but they no longer ended in bloodthirsty fights to the death. Some groups had even found a common base to work on, like the Constructicons and Technobots, including Hoist and Grapple; others had just found tolerance and went out of each other's way.

The Autobots had accepted that death and destruction could not always be apprehended; that you had to hit an enemy hard to make your stings more than just annoying bites. And the Decepticons had learned that other races were not automatically inferior just because they were different. Cyclonus had learned a great deal of respect for the Interfaces and the humans. They were smaller, but they kicked more than just a mean punch!

There was the soft sound of wings beating, then a small shadow fell over him and he almost automatically stretched out an arm. A black bird with a gray beak and claws, yellow optics glowing, landed on it, then hopped onto his shoulder. Her metal feathers rustled slightly.

"It's depressing," Raven said after a while. "I see why you are drawn to it again and again."

Cyclonus smiled humorlessly. His optics roamed over the twisted remains of the once so proud Decepticon base. There wasn't much left. Most of the left wing of the main building had collapsed and the right wing was gone completely. Everything was burned and black with soot. Missiles had ripped open the ground, throwing up large boulders and turning the ground into a crater-plagued surface. Now it was just a memorial as well as a burial ground. Megatron had chosen the empty shell as a place to put the remains of their dead comrades and friends to rest. Very fitting. Inside the hollow, dark base were countless plaques and statues, each telling a story about the war, the story of loss and regret, of pain and despair. A short while after the destruction, Cyclonus had wished he had died that fateful day as well, but now he was glad he had not fallen. A lot of good had happened still and they had won the war, though the wounds it had torn were deep and even though they had stopped bleeding, they still needed to heal. Some would leave ugly scars, he knew.

"It's a time no one else visits. I can be alone," he now told the bird.

Raven was one of the few good things that had come out of this. They had met long before the Tji had shown they ugly faces and she had always been someone very special, first his life saver, then someone who had hurt him deeply because she had left, in search of her true identity. She had found it and Cyclonus had been scared by what she had suddenly been: a Key, part of a team, a robot so much older than anything he had ever known, powerful and still looking so frail. They had found a way past his fears and though it had taken long, their partnership was no longer threatened. It was strong and he knew it would outlast everything. He felt deeply for Raven and he knew she reflected those feelings, but he never showed them in public. Cyclonus was fiercely private and many of the other Decepticons had never known about this relationship while they had been here on Charr.

"And that's why you asked me if I wanted to come along?" she teased.

Cyclonus chuckled and reached up, gently caressing the smooth metal feathers. "Yes."

"Cyc, every time I think I got you worked out, you surprise me," Raven said with an audible smile.

"I hope to remain a mystery at least in some areas," he muttered.

She laughed.

Yes, why had he asked her to come along? He had felt he needed support, even if his cravings to be alone were just as bad. But Raven was a trusted friend – and more. He didn't want to be alone this time, feel the oppressing memories bear down on him, eating away on his shields, weakening his defenses. He had let it happen much too often before and he knew one day he might not be strong enough to fight them off anymore.

Cyclonus found himself walking into the memorial ruin, the meager light of the tiny sun Charr orbited giving the halls a surreal touch. His optics ran over the plaques and he sighed. His mind was swamped by the memories of the ICU of Cybertron's med bay unit. How so many had died while capable engineers and medics of all factions and races had struggled to safe them.

Mech fluid everywhere, like blood running out of the torn open systems....

The shouts of the people around him, demanding, ordering, yelling; intermixing with the sounds of pain coming from the wounded and dying.

Then came the memories of the tiring and gruesome search he had conducted to find survivors – or the remains of those missing in action. It had been a relief to know they were no longer MIA, that you knew what had happened, but the sadness coming right after this feeling, the despair, had been just as strong, sometimes overpowering. Everyone had lost; everyone....

"Sometimes I ask myself why I was so lucky."

He wasn't aware that he had spoken out loud until Raven launched herself off his shoulder and transformed. The smaller, slender black female looked up at him, yellow eyes filled with a mixture of worry and understanding.

"Why?" she wanted to know, voice soft.

"I was given too many chances to live...." He stopped, aware that he was going further back into his past than he liked with just this one sentence. Cyclonus didn't know how much of his past Raven already knew, his past before Unicron had turned him into Cyclonus, and he was reluctant to talk about it. "I was given too much happiness," he whispered almost inaudibly.

Raven tilted her head and smiled slightly, knowingly. "Survivor's guilt."

"In a way." He walked toward one of the plaques and carefully dusted it off.

Scourge.

Born out of Unicron's power like him; a child of the past and turned into a pawn; freed; killed by the Tji. Out of the ashes, now fallen to dust.

Raven stepped beside him and touched the hand now resting on the dust-covered plaque. "Your survival is no reason to feel guilty, Cyclonus. You didn't escape death; you continued living. And happiness is nothing that is given to you; you create it yourself."

"I escaped death the first time," he muttered. "I was fatally injured, destined to bleed to death in deep space."

"How do you know?"

He turned and looked into her serious face. Raven was no Cybertronian and never had been. Her race was so much older than Cybertron and still she looked so much younger. She was as delicate as she was strong and enduring and he had been wrong about her before.

"I should have died. It would have been an honor," he repeated softly. "A warrior's honor."

She tightened her hold on his hand. "Your survived to fight another battle. The life of a warrior."

"And yet again others died. I didn't."

"Did you want to?"

He hesitated. "No," he answered after a while. "But I cheated death again."

"It's called survival." Raven looked at the memorial plaque. "Others didn't. It was a cruel war, one we never thought we could win, but we did."

Cyclonus nodded. Yes, they had won, but the price to pay had been terrible. He let his hand drop, feeling Raven's fingers still hold on to him, a silent support as he battled against those dark memories of days he wanted so desperately to forget and couldn't. Over two decades ago he had died to become Cyclonus; against his will. Would he want to die forever and be done with this existence?

No.

Not any longer. In the beginning he had functioned under the control of Unicron. Then he had been freed by the machine's death at the Autobots' hands; Cyclonus had truly started living. He still remembered his old life, the one before the alterations, but he had shoved it aside, having to live his new life. He had had so much to do, to occupy his mind, and in the end he had held the Decepticons together. He had brought Galvatron back, had supported their new leader, had been his right hand. But he had had more free time after the alliance and he had started to think once more.

Cyclonus inhaled deeply. He had reasons to live, a lot of them, and he had duties and responsibilities. He was the head of Counterstrike and he had a large team to lead and guide; he was still the Decepticon second-in-command, part of the Alliance Council; and he was his own person. He had a real life.

"Survival," he said softly and looked around again, the oppressing sadness of this site instilling a strange flood of emotional responses inside him. "I survived. I will continue surviving."

Raven smiled, squeezing his hand. "If you don't," she whispered softly, "I'll come after you and kick you butt into the next solar flare."

That drew a real smile out of him. "I knew you were of a very caring nature, bird brain."

She transformed and settled down on his shoulder again, claws holding tightly on to his armor. "That's me."

His smile stayed as he left the tomb. He would continue surviving because there were reasons for him to live. He was no puppet of Unicron; he had broken free. He was no puppet of Galvatron; he had never been. Cyclonus knew he was a respected member of the Decepticon faction, a Cybertronian, an important part of the Alliance. Pat of him was buried here with everyone else, but the rest continued. Outside he looked up into the sky. So much had changed, so much would still change. He wanted to be part of it.

 

The first of Charr's moons started to rise as the purple and silver jet lifted off and left the desolate world, aiming for the next warp gate; going home.


	7. Anxiety Spells

Rodimus Prime paced his office in a display of barely contained nervousness. His long legs ate up the distance to one side, then he lifted his head, stared at the wall, turned abruptly and paced to the other side. He circumvented the desk almost automatically. Sitting on the desk, legs crossed, watching him silently, Silhouette had to keep from chuckling constantly. Rodimus had been keeping this up for almost fifteen minutes now and she was wondering when the first signs of the ditch in the floor he surely had to get now would show. She knew the reason why he was pacing and fretting, but she didn't really understand it.

"Roddy?"

He stopped and shot her a slightly puzzled look, as if he just now took note of her. "Hm?"

"Would you mind?"

"Hm." He paced again.

As the Autobots' second-in-command passed the desk again, Sil stretched out one leg and he stumbled. At his outraged look she just gave him a pacifying smile.

"I said, would you mind?" Sil repeated gently.

Rodimus stood totally still for a moment, then tension seemed to build up like a flood against the dam. She could almost see energon racing inside of him, his mind on overload, trying to staunch it all but failing to do so.

"Relax," she said.

His hands clenched, then unclenched. "I' am!"

"Oh. Then I don't want to see you nervous."

Rodimus sighed and forcefully kept himself standing in one place.

"Use shields," the female Dinobot suggested.

"I am."

"Leaking?"

An embarrassed expression crossed his feature. "Uhm, no, peeking."

Silhouette laughed softly. "Oh, you are incorrigible. Come one, sit down, relax! This isn't some kind of battle you have to go off into!"

The young Autobot grudgingly sat down beside her on the desk. "It feels like it," muttered.

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You are worse than an expectant father, Roddy. Everything's going to be okay. It has been planned for...oh, years!"

"And I wish it had happened years ago," he sighed. "We postponed it two times because of one crisis or another!"

"Third time's the charm," Silhouette quoted. She nudged him slightly. "Humans do this every day, so will you please stop worrying? It's nothing but a more or less bureaucratic act."

He sighed again. "Yeah, I know. But...."

"But it is Shanygn and you are right in the middle with it. Is she nervous as well?"

Rodimus tilted his head, then grimaced. "No, and she keeps telling me to stop worrying and relax because it is leaking."

Silhouette laughed. "Good advice!" She cast a look at the chronometer. "Roughly one more hour to go. How about we get going?"

He was only too ready to hop off the desk and was already at the door when she slid off as well. Both Autobots walked down the corridor to the large hall, Rodimus a beacon of nervousness, Silhouette a center of calm amusement.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't the first time, Optimus Prime mused, and it surely wouldn't be the last, but this was quite different from the last time. He looked around the hall that would take in about a dozen Cybertronians and some humans soon. Last time it had been on Earth, outside the church, several dozen Autobots watching and congratulating the happy couple, and it had been in the middle of the Civil War. Back then Prime had been mystified by human marriages and Spike had explained it to him in all detail. Daniel and Kim's wedding had been different again and when their daughter DJ had been married as well, it had been a quick little reception without much of a celebration.

Shanygn and Nick had decided to go for the small version as well, no big party afterwards, just some friends. Their marriage was nothing but making their bond official. They had been together as partners for nearly one hundred years.... It was a formality without much meaning, but it was something they had both decided they wanted to do, the first Interfaces to marry. Optimus had been surprised to hear about the marriage. Humans married, but Interfaces chose life partners. Then again, no Interface had ever married another, let alone had such a deep and intense partnership. Nick and Shanygn had been the first.

Suddenly he caught an optic of his second-in-command entering the hall, Silhouette at his side, and Optimus had to suppress his amusement. Rodimus was as nervous as could be, appearing like he was the one to bond today. In a way he was part of Shanygn, but this was amusingly extreme.

"Hello, Rodimus," he greeted his younger friend.

Silhouette gave him a smile and jabbed an elbow into her partner's side. Rodimus glared at her.

"Hi, Op," he muttered.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Rodimus started fidgeted and Optimus smiled, hidden behind the mask. But Rodimus saw it, much better at reading his fellow leader than anyone else. "Stop it, Optimus, or we are going to have a scandal," he growled angrily.

"Why are you nervous? You are just a participant like everyone else," the older Prime remarked casually, trying suppress his smiles.

"I'm not just a participant!" he hissed. "I'm mind-linked to the woman in question!"

"But you are not marrying her. Nicholas is."

"It's almost the same!"

Silhouette coughed, hiding her laughter, and it earned her a dark look. "Roddy, you are really something....."

"I take that as a compliment," he muttered.

She gave his hand a squeeze. "Come on. Let's walk a bit. I don't want you to keel over from nervousness. It would be totally embarrassing."

Rodimus threw her an evil look, but Sil just smiled, dragging him after her. Optimus Prime watched them, shaking his head with a grin.

"Somebody give him a shot of valerian," Midnight chuckled and joined the Autobot leader.

"Well, he just got a dose of Silhouette and I think it'll hold until this is over."

Midnight's grin widened. "Well, Tornado is just as bad, but mainly because Nick is running around and making him nervous."

Optimus shook his head, glad that Cybertronians didn't marry. Too much fuss over an official declaration. Walking through the few assembled guests, mainly Sentinels, he smiled over this human tradition. It was nice to be a guest here, but he didn't want to be one of the two main people – or the robot linked to them!

 

* * *

It was over faster than Rodimus Prime had thought and it was probably the best. Shanygn and Nicholas had not wanted to make it such a big celebration after all, just a small reception and the actual marriage, and that had been over in a flash. Now Rodimus leaned against the wall outside, a glass of energon in one hand. He smiled as he received some snippets of Shan's thoughts and she gave him a gentle kick. He chuckled and brought up another shield. Neither Nick nor Shan had planned a holiday after this, but Rodimus Prime had insisted they'd at least spend some days off-planet to evade the clean-up after the party.

"There you are!"

Rodimus looked up and smiled at Silhouette as she joined him. "Here I am."

"It was a nice wedding," she commented.

"And luckily very, very short."

The female Dinobot laughed. "Oh, come on! It was half as bad as you made us think it is! You luckily refrained from fainting."

It earned her a mock-glare. Sil grinned and grabbed the glass of energon, taking a sip.

"Ey!" Rodimus protested and made a half-hearted attempt to get it back, but she was much faster than him.

"How about we take some time off from your busy schedule?" Sil proposed. "The wedding's over, you are a free bot, and before anyone comes up with an urgent request I'd take the chance and split."

The young Prime laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

They left silently, Silhouette depositing the glass for someone to pick it up later on when the cleaning started, then they disappeared between the tall columns of West Central's perimeter structures.


	8. The Long Road

She was an unlikely inhabitant of Cybertron. She was neither human nor Cybertronian, neither organic nor metal. She combined a lot of both and nothing at all in her body. Her world was very different from the one of the humans or the Cybertronians, very alien compared to most of the known systems and planets, and she was a loner. All her people were, meeting only in the time of procreation. Her name was Shekendra among her own kind, Samantha to most who knew her here. Those who had met her kind before called them vampire demons, mostly because of their appearance and abilities. They were shape-shifters among other things, and Samantha preferred two forms to most of those she had used in her long, almost eternal life. Currently she was using the robot form, a metallic, tall depiction of her human 'mode'. Her skin was a dark blue, her optics blood red and slanted. Likewise dark blue hair fell down her back, a rare sight among Cybertronians, and wings adorned her back. A devil-like tail, taloned feet and hands, and a predatory bearing completed the picture.

Samantha picked her way through the dark and lonely alleyway. Her steps were sure and light, not leaving an echo, and her movements were lithe. This part of the Northlands was not exactly safe, but she had yet to encounter a really dangerous opponent or a serious attack. Beggars and gang members kept out of her way, knowing the winged demonic robot by now. She had quickly established who was the stronger of them and they respected this strength. Samantha was no one to pick confrontations, but she also didn't shy away from them. Rounding another corner she came upon a small clearing, like a plaza. At least it would have been called a plaza if the looks of it wouldn't remind everyone of a nightmarish place. Garbage of undefined origin and age littered the ground. The buildings on both sides where old and partially lay in ruins. A lot of entrances were nailed or fused shut, and burned out wreckages blocked the pavement. She didn't want to know how many of those wreckages had been Autobots or Decepticons millennia ago. Everything was eerily silent.

Samantha crossed the open space and headed for the Badlands, just one are of the northern region of Cybertron. She was aiming for a particular place, one she had visited before and one where she always met the same person. As always, he was here today as well. She smiled sadly as she took in the gray form which seemed to almost blend in with everything around it.

"Hello, Dagger," she greeted the Sentinel.

Dagger glanced at her, then nodded briefly and continued staring at the nothingness around him. Samantha joined him, then sat down, waiting. It was the same game as each time, ever since she had found the Sentinel here, all on his own, just staring. She had felt his emotional state back then, very acutely indeed, and it had lured her to him each and every time. Dagger was a wounded person, someone with scars deep inside him, scars that still hurt and drove him away from his friends. He was hurting for someone he had known and someone who had been torn from him.

An Interface.

Samantha had acquired a thorough knowledge of Sentinels and Interfaces, and she knew that separation was something maddening and rarely an event both partners survived. The organic was more likely to survive it by a long shot; the robot usually went insane and suicidal. But Dagger was rather controlled and had never showed suicidal tendencies. Something had happened and it had something or other to do with Interfacing.

Throughout the weeks they met, Samantha scanned the gray Sentinel carefully, analyzed his emotional state-of-mind, and came to the conclusion that he was burying the pain instead of releasing it. Sometimes they talked, just a few snippets of conversation, but it gave her an even better idea of who he was. Asking carefully around she also got a few interesting facts from fellow Sentinels and she pieced everything together, forming a torturing picture. On the outside Dagger showed different faces, even hostility toward his leader, Midnight, though Samantha had read his devotion and respect for the young Sentinel. He would protect him against anything, he just didn't like to show it, hiding it behind snide remarks and sometimes very hurtful comments.

"It happened today, right?" Sam now asked.

Dagger didn't show any reaction, but his optics briefly flared. "You spied on me," he stated flatly.

She smiled, shaking her head. "No. You know I'm very empathic."

He snorted. "You are still spying."

"Empathy is different from telepathy." It was an old argument, one he liked to dig out and use again and again, but Samantha knew he understood the difference and the fact that she never spied on people with her skills.

Now she waited, then felt him make up his mind. "Yes," he answered her prior question. "Today is the day."

She waited some more and he turned, his optics meeting hers and she saw the pain in them.

"Why are you here? Why do you come every time?"

Sam shrugged. "Scenery?"

Dagger grimaced and she bestowed a smile on him. Silence settled between them and she watched the Sentinel, carefully keeping an empathic eye on him. He was drawn between leaving and staying. Finally made up his mind.

"His name was Three Morning Stars," he said quietly. "He and I were intended to Interface."

Sam nodded, her suspicions coming true.

"It never happened. Braintrust killed him." Rage wormed into his voice.

"You were already Interfaced?"

Dagger hesitated. "In a way," he then answered slowly. "Not completely, but we were completing our bond. It hurt," he added in a whisper.

Samantha watched him, noting the fine lines of stress in his face. "And it still does," she said softly.

The Sentinel winced. "Yes," he mumbled, his voice unsure as to why he was telling her this anyway.

Samantha waited. She was good at waiting. It was what her job description featured as number one. She saw herself as a kind of psychologist, but she wouldn't insist on her 'patients' opening up; she waited for them to find the opening themselves. Only then could she help and heal. Dagger needed a lot of healing and it was a start that he confessed to his emotional pain. She had seen and felt the scars inside him and she knew they needed relief and removal if possible. She could do it if given time and a chance.

"Were you close already?"

He nodded, evading her optics. "I knew all of him – and I felt his death."

Sam reached out, mentally, and gently caressed his wounded soul. He winced away from the touch, a reminder of how an Interface felt.

"I apologize," Sam said sincerely and pulled back.

Dagger's optics widened. "No, don't!" he blurted.

She let a faint touch linger. "I don't want to hurt you, Dagger. Your circuits are even more sensitive than I thought. The scarring is extensive."

He trembled a bit. "You are not hurting me," he managed after a moment. "It's just... I'm not used to it anymore."

"Would you want to Interface ever again?"

His optics flashed in a mix of emotions. "I... I can't.... I will not ever be able to do it again."

Samantha tilted her head. "It might be possible – if you let me help."

Dagger stumbled away from her, shaking his head violently. "No!"

"What are you afraid of? You want to Interface.... I know you want to, Dagger." She had felt his envy of everyone who had achieved an Interface and his hatred of the two Seekers, Wild Card and later Tornado, who had managed one as well. "What do you fear?"

"I can't!" he protested. "It's just that I can't!"

"I could possibly help you."

"No one can help me!"

"Why don't you let me try?"

Dagger trembled more. "No more!" he whimpered.

"No more loosing." It wasn't a question.

The Sentinel keened softly, falling to his knees as ancient memories assaulted his mind. Samantha linked herself into the stream if nightmarish recollections and let them pass over her, one hand reaching out to the fearful presence in the midst of the torrent. She felt weak fingers curl around hers, then she pulled him to her. Dagger clung to her, facing away from the pain, but she forced him to turn.

"Watch. Listen. Accept."

He fought her, but Samantha's gentle insistence won out in the end.

 _Dark, spotted skin and large black eyes._

 _Slender body._

 _Clicking and whistling._

The image of Three Morning Stars formed in the torrent of memories and Dagger whimpered.

"No!"

"He never died," Samantha said softly. "Part of him, the most important part, lives inside you. Accept."

Dagger curled up, shaking his head, but the image of his former Interface partner stayed, head tilted to one side, whistling and clicking softly.

"I'm sorry!" the Sentinel blurted. "I couldn't stop him!"

Sam stood back, one hand on his shoulder to show her support, but he had to do this alone.

"I wanted to... I couldn't..... Star, I'm sorry!"

Dagger's pain was like a living creature and it enveloped him completely. Sam tasted some of it and winced, then absorbed some of it. She fed off emotions, but the negative ones always left her with a dirty, unwashed feeling.

"It wasn't your fault," Sam said softly.

"I killed him!"

"No, Braintrust killed him."

"I could have stopped Braintrust!"

"Maybe."

Feverish and pain-filled optics gazed at her, then turned to look at the wavering image of the dead Interface. Star moved back and became one with the memories again. Dagger keened for him.

 

*

 

Sam was home in her quarters, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Well, it weren't exactly her quarters since her human form had bought a small apartment in the city, but she shared this space with a friend when she decided to exist in her robot mode. She had left Dagger after guiding him out of his memories to the dubious safety of reality. He had asked her to leave him alone and she had complied. He needed it.

Watch. Listen. Accept.

Dagger was trying, but he had buried himself in his pain for such a long time. It would take time. He had to force himself to watch his memories, then listen to the inner voices, and finally accept what had happened. It would be a long road, but she was ready to walk it with him.

"I didn't expect you."

Sam looked up and gave the dark blue and white Cybertronian a brief smile. "Neither did I."

Ravage slunk around Soundwave's legs and lay down beside her, head in her lap. She smiled and scratched him between the ears.

Soundwave tilted his head ever-so slightly and gave her a quizzical look. "You met him again," he finally stated, no judgment in his voice.

Sam shrugged. "It was time again."

"He has yet to acknowledge the healing."

She nodded slightly. Soundwave knew what she was doing and he silently supported her in his own way. He never showed it, but Sam knew he understood what she was trying to do. She was aware of the fact that she couldn't heal or help everyone, but she picked her 'patients' from a mass of hurting souls by choice and for a reason.

"He has to let me help."

Soundwave was silent for a while, then said calmly, "Like Jay and I did?"

Their optics met and Sam smiled gently. It was one of those few rare moments when Soundwave would actually mention Jay Davison's name out loud. His loss had hit him harder than anything. Jay had been a human, a 'fleshling', but they had shared something neither had thought possible: a friendship. Jay had hated Decepticons because they had killed his family – well, he had actually hated Cybertronians as such, whatever faction they belonged to – and Soundwave had never really thought all that much about humans. Everything had changed suddenly and in the end, when Jay had died, Soundwave had been there; mentally linked to the failing mind. He had suffered for a long time from those mental wounds. Adding to this loss the death of Buzzsaw, Samantha knew he had had a lot to chew on in the last decades. But he had survived; and he had let her help him.

"Yes," Sam finally acknowledged. "Like you and Jay. It took me over five years to get Jay to accept that there was more than hatred. Dagger might take just as long to accept the healing and his Interface's death."

"How long did it take me to accept?" the Decepticon wanted to know with just a hint of curiosity.

Sam smiled, showing canines. "Long enough."

Soundwave's visor flashed in ways of a smile. "I feel regret sometimes."

"About what?"

"Not accepting sooner. Not seeing what could have been."

She regarded him seriously. "You realized it, Soundwave. That is all that matters. Healing can start when you watch and listen, and then accept." A smile flew over her lips. "You went through all stages and you healed. You still hurt, true, but you are no longer tortured by the memories. Jay accepted as well and he healed. When he passed to another life, he was free. He owes it to you."

"And I owe him my own freedom."

She nodded again. "In time the scars Dagger bears will heal and vanish, though the memory will remain and he will hurt now and then. But it will no longer be a torture."

"Why do you help, Shekendra?"

It was an open and expected question, one he had posed mentally before, but one she had never acknowledged. "Because it is what I do. It's what I do best."

Soundwave gazed thoughtfully at her, then nodded. He had seen the other side of his friend, the demonic and powerful side, the one that could destroy and wreak havoc. He accepted her the way she was, in every form.

"And I'll accompany Dagger as long as he wants he at his side. His path is long," Sam added softly. "No matter how long it takes."

"Can you heal him?"

"I can point the way, I can remove the scarring, but I cannot make him whole again. He will need an Interface partner to complete what had been started."

"Can a wounded Sentinel Interface again?"

She looked at the tall, blue Decepticon. "I believe it is possible in his case. He was not completely bound to his intended partner and he can Interface again if he wants to."

Soundwave regarded her silently. "Who?"

Sam smiled mysteriously. "I don't know."

Something flashed behind Soundwave's red visor. It was a smile, a slight and amused smile.

"Understood."

Sam smiled as well and rose. Ravage gave a soft rumble, then followed her as she left the quarters. Soundwave remained behind, as always slightly mystified, then he returned to his duties.


	9. Nightmares

Screaming, Steven Parker bolted upright in his bed. Looking over at the clock, he saw that it was 2:30 a.m. Weakly clutching at his head, he tried to push out the dream that he had had.

Nightmare.

The same one he had once in a while.

Kidnapped. Body hurting. Giant robots. The dragon....

Evil, yellow eyes.

Ribs hurting.

...pain...

Agony.

Brilliant white, blazing, his head exploding into never-ending fire.

Blackness.

...soft green....

Coldness!

Shrieking pain.

Then he had woken up. His shoulders were tense. His hands were balled into fists. A cold sweat coated his entire body.

And then he became aware of another presence with him.

"Steve?"

He tried to get his breathing under control, his body trembling under its own accord, not giving him enough self-control.

Cold eyes staring straight through him...

The feeling of flames ripping through his body......

He screwed his eyes shut, a moan escaping his lips.

Someone touched him and he flinched away, his body radiating pain from imaginary ..... no, not imaginary – long ago healed – wounds. A whimper escaped his lips.

"Steve!"

Ashtar had been sleeping lightly at the time the nightmare had struck.

Nightmare. It had to be.

Steve had been twisting and turning for a while, muttering, his voice full of fear and denial. She thought she understand some words. Then he suddenly bolted upright, crying out in pain and fear. Now his face was twisted in terror. He whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, a low moan coming from his lips. His whole body was drenched in sweat.

"No......" Steve's voice shook with fear and terror. "No......please.....don't....."

She touched his shaking shoulders, confused. What had launched this.

"Steve!" she called intently.

He blinked, his blue eyes dazed and pools of utter fear.

"Ashtar?" he whispered, as if not believing she was really there.

"Yes. It was only a dream."

Steve inhaled deeply, pressing his fists into his eyes, shaking. "No.... nightmare....."

She rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. "What was it about?" she prodded carefully.

"I ....." He moaned softly, shaking again.

It had never been this bad.

He had had the nightmares before and each time he had come out of them okay.... but this time it had been so real.

"Steve?"

Tears slid down his face and his head, the place where the link was, burned again. He doubled over in pain. He felt Midnight's gentle probing, his questioning, his worry.

<<I'm okay>> he sent, his mind voice controlled.

He was sure Mid didn't believe him but the small contact had at least shaken him out of his nightmarish dreamscape.

"Who is Braintrust?" Ashtar asked.

His head snapped around and his eyes widened. "What?" Steve's voice quivered and he licked his dry lips.

"You mentioned him... you talked in your sleep. And about Midnight." Ashtar looked pleadingly at him. "What is wrong, Steve?"

He touched her face. "Nothing you can help with."

She reached out and brushed a tear off the corner of his eyes. "Try." She tilted her head. "It's past memories.... right?"

He winced. "Yes," he confessed after a while. "Listen....I ....." Steve met her green eyes, her compassion.... and for the first time he thought here was someone who might even understand the pain. He knew Midnight had shared the story with Rodimus, but he had never dared to open up that much.... let someone see the deep wounds still bleeding now and then.

And then the story spilled out of him

Confusion.

Fear.

Rising panic.

Pain. Interfacing. More pain.

Agony.

He whimpered.

His body hurting, ribs blazing with agony, his head about to burst.

It all poured out of him and he couldn't stop talking.

Ashtar looked at the trembling man, her heart reaching out for him, her arms embracing him, hugging the sweat-covered body to her, rocking him. He was crying now and she guessed it was the first time he allowed himself this release. She couldn't really imagine what he had gone through, what Midnight had gone through, but it suddenly opened her eyes to a lot of things concerning those two. Steve had been abducted out of the Rift, had been badly hurt, locked up in a cold cell, had seen a fellow prisoner dragged of to death.... and then he had Interfaced. Her own meeting with her partner had been without problems. She had been scared at the time, yes, but she hadn't been in deadly danger before, she had not faced an enemy, had not looked at a living nightmare – a demon.

She remembered her first meeting with Midnight, how scared she had been. Now she tried seeing it through the eyes of a kidnapped man, badly beaten up, in pain, scared ..... Hell was a too mild word for it. She felt him quiet down, sniffling, trying to detach himself from her.

"I.... I'm sorry for this," Steve whispered, rubbing his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's okay," Ashtar replied, running a hand through his hair.

"No, it's not. It happened so long ago .... I should be able to handle it!" He sounded angry with himself.

"You never shared your pain," Ashtar whispered. "That's why it always came back."

Her own words sounded mockingly in her ears as they laughed at her own inability to share her past.

"Maybe."

Steve let her push him back down again, inhaling deeply. Ashtar lay with him, one arm wrapped over his broad chest, snuggling close. He hugged her, holding on to her like she was a life line.

"Sleep. I'm here," she whispered.

Steve fell asleep after a while, his exhaustion catching up with him. Ashtar couldn't sleep though, her mind awhirl with what she had heard from him.

<<Ashtar?>>

<<Nothing, Fang>> she answered.

<<Sure?>> He sounded worried.

Ashtar smiled. <<Yes. Later, okay?>>

He agreed and removed his presence slowly.

Ashtar gently brushed her hand through Steve's hair, then over his body. He moved sleepily.

"Sleep," she purred.

He was so vulnerable now. His face was pale and drawn, only slowly relaxing into an untroubled sleep. She felt like killing Braintrust for what he had done to Steve, but the Seeker was already dead. And if he hadn't kidnapped Steve he would not have found Midnight. Those two had been destined to Interface. And Steve wouldn't be here today .... tonight ..... with her.

Ashtar closed her eyes and wished she could sleep but it evaded her. Finally she sat up and simply watched him, stroking his hair, sighing.

She wouldn't leave him now.

She couldn't.


	10. Mind Song

The ship was nothing special. It was a rather plain looking, gray and blue colored short distance jumper, marked as under the Alliance fleet's command, and with no visible weapons. Many of them took off or landed at the Cybertron Interplanetary Space Port at West Central every day and no one paid much attention to it. It landed on pad 44-9 and a service droid pushed a maintenance station over to it immediately. Refueling started while the passengers disembarked.

There were three of them, one human, one humanoid alien and a Cybertronian. The human's name was Joe Amron. He was a large man, topping seven feet, and built like a wrestler. His light brown hair was touched by silvery streaks of advanced age, but still cropped short, almost like a military crew cut. His features were broad, slightly square, the eyes a liquid brown and narrow. Wrinkles had set in, but the face was still youthful. An almost innocent expression dominated his features and he looked around with wide-eyed wonder.

"This is.... beautiful."

Joe's voice was soft and dark, like a child in its intonation, and his movements were slow. He might have the body and looks of a wrestler, but he was a child in every other aspect.

Shanygn gently took his hand, smiling at his bright eyes, his smile, his wonder. "Come. I'll show you around."

Mel followed the two smaller humans, keeping a close eye on Amron. It was a surprise that he could walk on his own since he had never done much of walking on Earth. He had sat in his room at the mental home or he had been wheeled outside in his wheelchair. He had been almost catatonic for most of his life, ever since Project Mindsinger had declared him a failure.

Joe Amron was a human child who had been experimented on, who had been turned into a cyborg-like creature, bonded by force to a machine called 'Taurus'. From what Mel knew, Taurus had been a gentle person, very calm, very caring. She had 'sung' in his mind, as he had told her when they had met two days ago. She had cared about the human child and she had wanted them to succeed, but the Project had decided that they weren't up to the standards they had set for the Zodiac program. Taurus had been 'discontinued'; she had been erased; killed. But a small part of her had survived inside her host body and though Amron had fallen first into a coma and finally woken to be catatonic, Taurus had never left.

Now he had come to Cybertron. For the first time he and Taurus inside him saw the home planet of the technology that had created them. Shanygn had been the driving force behind this visit. She had never been able to forget the young man who had suffered so much because of some cold-blooded humans who had tried to play god with a technology they had barely begun to understand. She wanted him to see Taurus' home. Mel didn't really know whether or not Taurus actually existed in an aware sense of the word, but she knew that there was something inside Joe's mind that was Cybertronian. She was an empath specialized on robots and she felt a warm sense of belonging and wonder emanating from the human right now.

That Joe was on Cybertron now had a special reason as well. By human age he was in his sixties, but still looking very young for his age. Nevertheless, he was approaching a kind of terminal status. The head doctor of the mental clinic where Joe had lived all his life had called Shanygn and told her that by their estimates, he would not live to see the next year. It was like a shut-down procedure, a final executive command from the cybernetic implants in his body. Shanygn had frantically searched for the reason and finally found a file from the Zodiac program, revealing that the human component grew 'useless', as the project leader put it, after the age of sixty. The implants made sure that it would be discontinued and the Zodiac mind would be transferred into a new host. But Taurus couldn't be transferred. She was a part of his body and mind and Joe knew it.

If there was help, First Aid and his team would be able to find it. There had to be help. There just had to be.....

 

* * *

 

"I can't help him. I wish I could tell you something different, Shanygn, but this deterioration has gone beyond the point where our technology would safely restore both Mr. Amron and the remains of Taurus he carries inside." First Aid shook his head. "I'm truly sorry."

Shanygn briefly closed her eyes. She knew she had expected a miracle, but even then, hearing the cold truth was painful.

"I understand," she whispered.

"And we do too," Joe added.

She turned to look at him and saw a soft smile play over his features. His eyes were so full of life and joy that it was nearly impossible to see him as the vegetable he had been mere days ago.

"Taurus sings," he added, voice full of wonder. "She feels her home and so do I. We know you can't help us and we understand. We appreciate what you did for us and I request just one thing...."

"Yes?"

"Let us stay here for our final days?"

Shanygn swallowed. "I think this request can be granted," she managed.

[It already is] Rodimus sent, his mind-voice as subdued as her feelings. [Joe and Taurus can stay. I've found quarters for him in West Central so he is close to the main med bay in case... in case he needs help]

[Thanks]

 

* * *

 

Days passed into weeks and turned into months. Cybertron changed, people came and went, but Joe Amron didn't mind the changes. He watched everything with the eyes of a child, smiling, cheering, laughing, enjoying a home he had sought for so long. Shanygn tried to spend a lot of time with her guest, but she couldn't be there for him all the time. The other Interfaces helped out, showing Amron the sights, driving or flying him around, and he enjoyed every minute. First Aid checked him repeatedly, but there was no change. Systems failed, he aged, he was dying.

Today was the first day of the new year and though the event had been celebrated, it hadn't been such a bang as it would have been on Earth with all the firecrackers and parties. Joe had never seen New Year's parties or the beautiful lights of firecrackers, but he knew about it. A year had ended, a new one had started. An endless circle.

<Child, it's time>

He smiled at the soft voice in his head, a voice that had grown stronger throughout his stay on Cybertron. He had felt Taurus grow, had felt her feed on the sights and sounds around her, had felt her live for real again. Joe had always loved his partner, the strength she radiated, the warmth and care. She was like a mother he had never known, had protected him as best as possible, but had taught him in the process. Joe respected and loved Taurus and he wouldn't want to live without her beautiful voice in his mind.

<I know>

He left the apartment he had been given while staying here, walking down the corridor and leaving the complex. He inhaled deeply as he was outside. The air was fresh but held a metallic taste. Above him gliders passed through the air, a monorail rushed by and around him people walked busily along the streets. Joe joined the pedestrians, let himself drift among them, going with the flow. He took a monorail and left West Central station. He got off the train again after three stations and waited for everyone else to leave the platform.

Taurus hummed softly as Joe made his way downstairs, then through a door and proceeded along a street. He finally arrived on a hill that overlooked West Central, the space port and even showed the lights of the human cities in the distance.

<Beautiful> Taurus whispered longingly.

Joe sat down, cross-legged, watching the lights, the life, the beauty.

"Yes," he whispered, tears in his voice. "Our home. I wish we had had the chance to see more, to be more, to stay."

Taurus hummed. <We experienced more than our brothers and sisters. We are the lucky ones>

Joe smiled and nodded. Yes, they were the lucky ones.

"Look at the stars," he murmured, eyes rising to watch the star-speckled sky. It was like a dark blanket now covering them, keeping them safe on this wondrous world.

<I see life in them> Taurus said softly. <So much life. We will see it all together, my child. We will travel the stars and see what was kept from us for so long>

Joe's smile stayed, his eyes misting over slightly. He leaned back and rested his weary back against a metal stump rising out of the shiny surface. A tear rolled over his cheek.

"Just the two of us. Forever."

Taurus wrapped herself around his mind, an embrace of pure love and warmth. She held the flickering spark of his fading life.

<Yes, forever>

There was safety.

Warmth.

Eternity.

And Taurus sang for him.

 

* * *

 

Shanygn sat in her room, trying not to cry. Her throat ached with the effort and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. They had found Joe Amron this morning, sitting on Nubby Hill, as the small rise of Cybertron's surface south of West Central had been dubbed. He had been dead for an hour, and he had died with a smile on his face, his eyes turned heavenwards, watching the sky. Shanygn knew there had been only one possible outcome for this, but somehow, seeing the reality now, it had taken her harder than she had expected.

Someone sat down next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't hold it back, Shan," Nick whispered. "Just let it out."

Shanygn looked at him and finally acknowledged the pain she felt inside. She cried for a long time, holding on to her partner who just wrapped his arms around her, saying nothing. Joe Amron had been the last Zodiac to die, if you didn't count the two down in the cryo labs. Taurus, or what had been left of her anyway, had died with him. The burial would be tomorrow. They would send his body into the tiny sun of Cybertron's system, a place he would surely appreciate.

Taurus had been a child of this planet, created on Earth, declared a failure and scheduled for total destruction. She and her host had struggled to live, had united, and they had survived all of them. Now they had died together on their chosen home.

Shanygn wished she could have done more but knew that what she had done, had been more than Joe Amron had ever expected of this world. She detached herself from Nick and opened her left hand. Her fingers were holding a golden amulet. It had been in the mail this morning, before she had heard of Joe's death, and even while she had unwrapped the pendant, Shanygn had felt a wave of dread. It was a bull's head and on the back was an inscription:

'The song of my mind will last forever'

She smiled.

Yes, Taurus would sing forever.

 

 

A bright spark of life traversed the endless plains of the universe. It was a song of beauty and innocence, of warmth and love.


End file.
